Deepwater Innocence
by Esherymack
Summary: Rose Cross Station. It is one of the finest of its make; resting on the bottom of the ocean, gathering geothermal energy to supply the world above. It is inhabited by Rifters, specialized people designed to live and function on the bottom of the ocean. Something mysterious is lurking down here, though... Rated for language, no parings as of yet, inspired by Peter Watts's "Starfish"


A/n: Nehhhhh I was in a weird mood XD So I was like… derp *_*

So yes, this is crossoverish. I'm reading this really incredible book called Starfish. It's about people who are sent to live on the bottom of the ocean to assist in geothermal energy harvesting. And now I'm like lol crossover.

Disclaimer: D. Gray-man belongs to Katsura Hoshino. Starfish belongs to Peter Watts; I'm mostly using the book and Watts' ideas as a point of reference for like… everything.

* * *

He stares into the mirror on the wall in front of him and presses a cold hand against the damp glass. He examines his pallid reflection in it.

His eyes fall to the water intake in his chest, just below his left armpit. It is a tiny portal into the machines that _they _stuck in him, where they have gouged out his lung and replaced the muscle with metal. It is the device that keeps him alive down here, in the midnight of the bottom of the Atlantic Ocean, when he has to go outside to complete his shifts and earn his pay. When it's not work, it's usually sleep, with a few meters of pressure-sensitive metal between him and the crushing force of water.

Allen Walker's eyes creep back up to his face. His huge eyes, masked in white eyecaps that have acclimated his vision to see in pale blues, draining colour from the world around him. Usually, the lights in Rose Cross Station are kept fairly low. The eyecaps definitely help.

He shivers. Then, there is a knock on the door, and the only other Rifter down here, Cross, pokes his head in.

"Shift's starting. Might wanna consider suiting up," he says, before he promptly leaves. Through the echoes in Rose Cross, Allen can hear the airlock hissing and opening as Cross opens it. He sighs and pulls his 'skin up and over his shoulders, sealing the seams on it.

He rolls his neck and ducks out into the low corridor.

* * *

Allen always hates going outside.

It's torturous. When the hatch opens, his lung and other organs shrink and flatten in his chest, and his body goes numb from the sudden shock of cold water. He and Cross both have to restrain themselves from falling as they stop breathing and their water intakes kick in, sucking the water from around them and separating the oxygen from it to keep their bodies alive.

It's like drowning, with no reward of death.

As the water intakes pump the cold water into them, the parts of them that weren't numbed by the shock of the water slowly lose feeling, until Allen can't feel anything. He moves then, flexing his arms and legs before letting his body take over and glide slowly along the slightly warmer muck on the bottom of the ocean. He rolls over and tries to let his eyecaps adjust to the sudden darkness.

Off to the side, he sees Cross, floating like him. The other's mechanical voice buzzes in Allen's ears: "Never gonna get used to it, I think. Just learn to tolerate it."

He hums in reply; the vocoder misinterprets and just makes a dull _tic-tic-ticccc _noise. He hates how he can see no emotion in reply in his comrade's capped eyes or masked face, but he can almost imagine the smile. Cross always laughs at the vocoder's quirks.

He tries to inhale, as a force of habit, and has to force the panic away when his chest won't expand and air won't fill his lungs. He feels lightheaded until the oxygen brought into his body from the machinery floods him with fresh air again.

He _hates it here._

As he turns back to see where he's swimming, Cross moves closer from where he drifted. Together, the two Rifters head towards a natural formation in the soft rock they call the Outcrop—a large clifflike structure that juts out over a deep, but narrow trench. Allen keeps a close eye on his temperature gauge, trying to judge where it was boiling and where it was safe to swim.

Cross and Allen were on their second week down below. In another week or so, the company that owns the station—Black Order, they call themselves—will send down the rest of the Rifter team they've made up.

It occurs to Allen how much there is to hate about this whole project. The drowning. The food. The company. The lack of _space. _

"Hey, watch out!" Cross buzzes, and Allen moves just in time to see a large viperfish dash by. He avoided the giant fish easily and gave Cross a look that he hopes looks thankful. Then he remembers that he can't see Cross's face or eyes, and it is the same for him.

"Thanks," he says, his vocoder speaking easily, masking the timidity in Allen's voice.

Cross swims past, his words drifting back to Allen. "No prob, kid. Keep up."

Allen nods and kicks off again, trying to ignore the fact that he can't breathe.

* * *

A/N: So how'd it go, hm? :3


End file.
